The Coffee Shop Ch. 02

Where Caleb was fair, she was tanned, the color resembling liquid caramel with a bit of cream. A soft spray of freckles graced the tops of her cheeks, giving her the look of childishness that added even more youth to her five-foot-two figure. Her eyes, a strange color of golden amber, looked sickly yellow in the false light of the bathroom. Peyton made a face, her freckles and nose crinkling at the effort.

Peyton braided back her dark sienna-colored hair, her full lips pulling into a frown when a loud rumble of thunder followed by a brilliant white flash lit up the room. Telling herself to not diddle, she went back downstairs and slid into her fleece-lined moccasins, her feet instantly thanking her for the warmth.

Caleb had just stood up to retrieve another bowl of stew when she walked into the kitchen. Smiling at him she grabbed her own bowl and waited in line, noticing the sandwich tray was running low. She smirked wryly at that. Clearly he had been hungrier than he let on.

"Thank you."

Peyton blinked and stared up at Caleb in surprise to see that while he wasn't smiling, he wasn't glaring either. That was a start. "The weather channel says the storm will last through the night," he continued carefully, his eyes never leaving her face. "I don't want to be a nuisance," he said pointedly.

Peyton took a mental note of Caleb's absolute refusal for help, astonished by his sheer lack of informality and the radiating chill of his defensive posture. Caleb was obviously ready for a fight that wasn't going to take place, and Peyton wanted to know why.

"There's a bedroom down the hall," she said after awhile, adopting his formal tone. "It's one of the warmer rooms in the house. If you aren't comfortable there, the couch is open." She fought against arching an eyebrow to him. "And you're not a nuisance. Unexpected, yes, but it's not any trouble at all, Caleb."

Caleb didn't know how to respond to that, which she expected. He turned from her and ladled more steaming stew into his bowl before sitting down in the chair at the end of the table. Peyton turned her back to him, glad that she could hide her shaking hands and use the heat of the stove as an excuse for her flushed face.

Caleb at the coffee shop versus the Caleb sitting at her table were two completely different Caleb's, she reasoned as she filled her bowl with stew. Coffee Shop Caleb was formal, yes, but personable. He chatted with the customers quite often, even breaking a smile. When that cute blonde girl came around, he seemed more alive. But the present Caleb, the one she was tending to, was not personable. He was formal, almost overtly so, and each smile he granted her did not reach the glacial depths of his unnaturally light green eyes. This Caleb frightened her, more than Coffee Shop Caleb.

Peyton took two warm cheese sandwiches and sat at the opposite end of the breakfast table, glad she had left the stove on for the heat that licked around her legs was amazing. She noticed that Caleb had angled his body towards the stove as well, the blanket tight around his torso.

At that thought she checked the temperature on the a/c and heater control, standing up to turn up the heater a bit more. It would be sweltering upstairs, but at least Caleb wouldn't freeze.

As soon as she sat in her chair, Caleb's calm and gentle voice carried across the table. "I lied to you. About being at the ledge."

Peyton lifted her amber eyes to meet his green ones, forcing herself not to flinch away. She swallowed hard before clearing her throat. "What were you doing that close to the ledge?" she asked quietly, her expression demanding absolute truth.

Caleb's face was like a mask, his eyes two bright fiery orbs of rage that she knew wasn't aimed at her directly. "Wishing I had the guts to jump," he replied in that same infuriatingly formal voice.

Peyton inhaled his challenge and exhaled her own temper before answering. "You test yourself by standing at the ledge," she said in an even tone, his hardening gaze telling her she was right. "How often?"

It was Caleb who broke eye contact first, his nostrils flaring as he struggled for control over his inner demons. Peyton watched as his head bowed towards the table, his hair falling in front of his pale, flawless face. Briefly his hands on the table turned into fists before his body began to tremble with pent-up emotions that Peyton couldn't even begin to imagine.

"Every day," Caleb replied hoarsely, the emotional struggle obvious in his voice. "I stand at the edge every day and wait. I keep thinking that I'll have the strength...and each day I fail," he continued, his struggle fading into cold finality. When he met Peyton's eyes again, there was no sign of weakness. Peyton couldn't imagine the control he must have, or why it was there in the first place.

Peyton was not a therapist or a psychic, but she didn't need to be either of those things to see that he was in pain. Caleb wanted -- needed, more likely -- help, but he did not know how to ask for it. It struck her hard then that Coffee Shop Caleb was more personable because he was happy. Caleb was only happy when he was pretending to be someone else.

"You fail because you must have a reason to live," Peyton responded after a long stretch of silence. She had been trying to make her voice sound as controlled as his, but that just wasn't possible.

"And on a subconscious level, no one wants to die. Your instincts for survival will botch every attempt at death you make. Surviving is engrained within us." She did not break his icy gaze when she continued. "I can preach all I want but unless you change how you approach whatever situation you're in, no one can help you. You must take the first step."

Caleb said nothing, his stare fluctuating between ice and pain. Peyton waited patiently, refusing to make it easy on him.

Peyton knew she wasn't qualified for problems like this. He needed a therapist, someone he could talk to and get him the help he needed. He needed friends, a support group, something, not Peyton.

But she knew that there was nothing in this world or the next that could stop her from helping Caleb. Selfishly she clung to the impulse to care for him even though she was positive she would only end up hurt by her decision.

For weeks Peyton had wondered why exactly she was lingering in Hamish, unsure of her direction or purpose. Now, she was sure of her reason and she would be damned if she left before the dust had settled.

Peyton internally chuckled at that. So much for putting the coffee shop incident behind her.

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